


Double or Quits

by sylviarachel



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Douglas is oblivious, Fluff, M/M, Martin dithers, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post Episode: s04e06 Yverdon-les-Bains, until he isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 09:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2383856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylviarachel/pseuds/sylviarachel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin asks Douglas for advice on an important job offer. Douglas can't work out why his opinion is needed -- until he does.</p><p>Spoilers for Yverdon-les-Bains.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double or Quits

**Author's Note:**

> So ... I had been staying away from Martin/Douglas fic for ages, and then I ran out of good Martin/Henry and Martin/OMC and gen fic to read, and then I happened upon splix's [A Million by Tuesday](http://archiveofourown.org/works/878377/chapters/1689101) (or possibly Jay_eagle's [Flap and Throttle](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1491301/chapters/3148639) was first, I'm not sure), and then ... somehow ... this happened, in the way that fic happens when one's publisher has given one a deadline :/ I don't even know.

He’s almost done this a dozen times over the past year, and always bottled it at the last moment. But this time’s different, because this time he’s got a real alternative, a real … he doesn’t like the phrase _exit strategy_ , it calls up vivid memories of times when the only visible way out of his rubbish life was, well, _out_. And _escape route_ – he suppresses a little shudder. No, not that either.

A choice. Now he has a _choice_. He can ask, and if the answer’s _No_ or _Good Lord, Martin, have you lost your mind?!_ or (and this seems the most likely scenario) hysterical, disbelieving laughter, well, he’s got an excellent job offer waiting for him 500 miles from here, the perfect way to just leave all the resulting awkwardness behind him.

So: double or quits. _My last, best wager. Or worst._

“D’you remember,” he says, “how I said Swiss Airways said they’d let me know? About the job?”

“Yes,” says Douglas, straightening up just a tiny bit in his – that is, MJN’s – folding chair. “And have they?”

“Well.” Martin can’t look at him, not for this. “I … wasn’t exactly telling the truth about that. As such.”

“Martin…”

“Yes, yes, all right.” Martin raises his eyes, squares his shoulders against the rigid chair-back. “I … they …” _Deep breath._ “They offered me the job on the spot. They said I can start in June.”

“Good Lord, Martin!” Douglas looks … astonished, which is unflattering but entirely to be expected, but also … and sort of mainly … “Why on earth didn’t you say?”

Martin picks fretfully at the braid on his left sleeve. “Because … because I told Arthur, I was so surprised to see him that it just _came out_ ,and he said Carolyn would make sure I took it, but I just …”

He pauses, swallows. Stands up and turns round. “Douglas, what do you think? Should I … do you think I should go?”

“Of course you should go, Martin!” Douglas doesn’t get it, _of course_ he doesn’t get it, Martin is rubbish at this. “You can’t honestly think even I would be so selfish as to advise you against—”

“Douglas. This isn’t Captain Crieff asking First Officer Richardson.” Martin swallows hard. _Double or quits. Remember, there’s always Zurich._ He turns round again, finds Douglas has stood up, too. “This is me asking you. Do you … do you want me to stay?”

For the longest time Douglas doesn’t say anything, which is basically the weirdest, most unexpected thing that could possibly have happened, and which in other circumstances – _the great Douglas Richardson, speechless!_ – Martin could have really enjoyed. In _these_ circumstances, it makes him want to start babbling apologies and explanations and God knows what. He bites his lip to keep his stupid mouth shut.

Douglas is looking down at Martin; he focuses on Martin’s mouth, and his eyes widen.

Just the tiniest bit, but Martin is watching his face as if his life depended on it (because, in a way, it sort of does), and he doesn’t miss it.

“Martin.” Douglas’s voice is hesitant and husky. Martin’s not sure what to make of that, but he’s relieved that Douglas has finally said something.

“Douglas,” he says.

And then they stand there for a bit, staring at each other. Martin has no idea what to do, but he’s used to that; what’s unnerving is that it almost looks as though Douglas doesn’t know what to do either.

Douglas _always_ knows what to do.

Finally Douglas licks his lips (and suddenly Martin can’t look away from them) and frowns very slightly (and Martin wants to smooth out the frown-furrows with his fingers) and says, “Just so we’re completely clear.”

“Yes,” says Martin. He realizes he’s clenched his fists so tightly that his fingernails are digging into his palms; he tries to relax them, and can’t.

“You, Martin,” Douglas continues, “are asking me…”

He stops again, frowns some more, and says, “What happened to the Princess Theresa?”

Martin looks away. Blushes. Finally succeeds in unclenching his hands.

“She’s nice,” he says. “She’s very nice. I like her. We’re good friends.”

He dares a glance back up at Douglas, who’s now looking genuinely baffled. It is, Martin notes distantly, actually rather a good look on him.

“I think it’s possible we could, you know. Make a go of it,” says Martin. “It would be, you know. Okay. But. It’s not … she’s not …”

_Oh God, this is a disaster, and Douglas obviously doesn’t know a trick this time._

Well, then: it’s down to Martin. _Be a grownup, Captain, for God’s sake._

It’s Douglas’s voice in his head, saying that. Of course it is.

Martin squeezes his eyes shut, takes a deep, deep breath, and says all in a rush: “Theresa’s not who I want to be with, Douglas. You are.”

Martin opens his eyes. Sees Douglas still staring at him, and his stomach drops ( _not_ in a good way), and again he’s about to start babbling like an idiot and bites his lip to stop himself doing it.

“Now, that is profoundly unfair,” says Douglas.

“What?!”

“ _That_.” Douglas gestures at … at Martin’s mouth? Surely not. “You can’t spring something like this on a person unexpectedly, and then stand there looking … _seductive_ whilst he’s attempting to get his mind round it.”

Martin has to physically restrain himself from turning to see who could possibly be standing behind him looking seductive. He doesn’t entirely succeed.

His head whips round again at Douglas’s soft, familiar chuckle.

“Martin, you _berk_ ,” he says, and steps forward with open arms.


End file.
